On my list of Places I Hated, the dentist’s office was firmly at number two. Slightly worse than shopping with my mother, but not as bad as a visit to my gynecologist, who was also a family friend. My parents had him over for barbecues and I couldn’t quite look Dr. Sullivan in the eye without remembering where his eyes had been. I was, of course, a fully-grown woman who could easily change doctors, but then my mother would find out, I’d have to explain, and the battle would be lost before it began.
